


The Mud On Your Boots

by Thoughts Like A Minefield (Incog_Ninja)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood As Lube, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fisting, Kissing, Menstrual Sex, Menstruation, Shower Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Fisting, panty licking, the L-word
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2019-09-01 04:19:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16757803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incog_Ninja/pseuds/Thoughts%20Like%20A%20Minefield
Summary: It's been a while for Donna, and with a wedding and a recent purchase of sex toys, an unexpected visitor is more than welcome.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brrose/gifts).



The song from where the title of this fic originated.

[Better Than That - Briana Buckmaster singing, Jason Manns on guitar](https://youtu.be/Tnq-TnxMvXs)

Donna met the Winchesters at a turning point in her life, fresh off a divorce from a man who ridiculed her eating and her weight – yet her memories of that meeting experience embolden her. Her life was forever changed after meeting the hunters and her now best friend Jody.

Donna’s realized her natural strengths. She’s eradicated the kind of angst from her life that used to fuel her to _do better_ , _be better_ – she’s redefined better, actually. She’s proud of herself and she’s proud of her life.

Since her last boyfriend left for fear of the supernatural and the unknown, Donna’s left romance on the backburner. She finds comfort with her newly found family – Jody always listens and empathizes, and Donna’s slight maternal instincts are exercised by helping watch over Claire, Alex, and Patience.

All that being said, nights like tonight leave her wanting.

“Thank you for coming, Sheriff Hanscum,” Renee says as she releases her boss from a firm hug. “And thank you for the _gifts._ ” Renee whispers that part – shying away from speaking too loudly about the grab bag of goodies Donna put together for the newly married young couple’s honeymoon activities.

Jody helped her pick everything out as they each bought a few things for themselves. The thought of her new toys waiting for her at home has her at once looking forward to using them and wishing she had someone to play with.

“Aww,” Donna says, tapping a finger to the button of the girl’s nose. “Well, you enjoy every minute of it, doll.” Renee flushes pink, and Donna grins with a squeeze of her hand before letting her go and exiting the reception.

Weddings always make her a swoony, and as she grows older – and less frequently sexually engaged – they also make her amorous. She sighs as the Uber she ordered pulls up, slides inside and sets about scanning her phone for messages and case alerts. She organizes the following day in her schedule and chuckles to herself as she replies to Jody’s request to meet for lunch the following week, declaring “ _these girls’re gonna give me a fucking aneurysm._ ”

As she’s about to pocket her phone, it buzzes in her hand. It’s a message from Dean, and her belly flips inexplicably. Dean’s handsome and all, but those boys are like brothers to her. Did somebody spike her beers with Spanish Fly? She’s probably just feeling residual anxiousness from thinking about her toys.

_In town for the night_

_no Sammy_

_bored outta my mind_

_Want some company?_

Donna hesitates – another inexplicable response to a simple Dean text. Then she shakes her head, laughs it off, and replies.

_Sure! In an Uber omw home from a wedding reception_

_Wanna pick up some beer and pizza?_

Two seconds pass, she bites her lip, her phone buzzes, and her face splits into a grin.

_Way ahead of ya, D. See ya at yours_

Donna finally slips her phone into her jacket pocket with a renewed optimism for the evening. Just because she and Dean aren’t romantic, doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy his company and allow his visit to at least partially fill the void.

“Oh, turn here, hon,” she says to the Uber driver. “We’ll get there a little quicker this way.”

Then she sinks back into her seat for the remainder of the trip.

When she arrives home, Dean’s already inside. He and Sam have keys to both her and Jody’s places now, just as she and Jody have access to each other’s and the bunker. This exchange was supposed to be in case of emergency, but Dean’s never had a lot of regard for propriety.

Donna grins, hearing him singing in the kitchen, as she hangs her coat in her front closet and tosses her keys into the bowl by the door. He’s laid out the pizza, napkins, and paper plates on her coffee table, turned on her Pandora, and, by the sounds of it, is getting them each a beer from the kitchen.

Dean emerges, hands braced in a triangle, carrying two bottles of beer and a half-full bottle of Cholula, his teeth clenching a swinging bag of grated parmesan, looking right at home. He hums something from around the bag of cheese between his teeth, and Donna laughs.

“Ya sure know the way to a girl’s heart, doncha?” Donna jokes as she toes her booties off and takes her hair tie out of her hair, tousling it loose.

The wedding wasn’t formal at all, so she’s perfectly comfortable in the jeans and sweater she wore to the event as she collapses onto the couch and watches Dean deftly drop the parmesan from his teeth in front of her while simultaneously setting the Cholula aside.

“You’re welcome,” he says, handing her one of the beers with that signature smirk. “How’s the wedding?” He flips the pizza box open and scoops up a piece for himself before dropping back into the couch cushions. “Anybody I know?”

“Nah,” Donna answers, pulling a meaty, cheesy slice onto a plate. “One of my newer deputies. I give her three months before she announces her first pregnancy and takes leave.”

Dean shrugs. “Young love, huh?” He folds the slice in his mouth until half of it disappears from view.

Donna chuckles. “Guess so,” she says, taking a healthy bite of her own. “What’re you in town for? Where’s Sam?”

Dean rolls his eyes dramatically and chews his food like it’s all a chore. He speaks around a mouthful when he answers. “Caught a vamp case 20-miles from here, handled it before I even needed to call ya.” He chews some more before taking a giant swallow of food and beer. “Sammy’s off playin’ _Chief of the Hunter Clan_ , or some shit, I dunno…”

“Chief of the what now?” Donna asks, sipping her beer and sprinkling Cholula on her pizza slice. She hears the edge of irritability in Dean’s voice – that all-purpose edge he uses when he’s mad, sad, or scared. Donna’s seen all three incarnations. This one’s hard to pinpoint.

Dean explains with a bit of derision Sam’s new role as mentor and manager of the new-to-this-world hunters. Donna listens patiently, and when he’s done talking, Dean seems less on edge.

“Raised him right, sounds like,” she says, and Dean smiles like he’s shy, dipping his chin to his chest. That, Donna’s never seen – and she decides she likes it.

“Want another beer?” Dean asks before downing his own and standing.

“I’m good – had a couple at the reception,” she answers, and Dean nods as he turns on his heel and heads to the kitchen for another.

Donna watches him walk, bowlegs and strong hips, jeans sat perfectly over his high, rounded ass, t-shirt loose and hanging just right. She unconsciously licks her lips and lets herself fantasize for a few moments about what kind of power is behind those hips and thighs, about the smooth skin of his solid torso, the softness of his shapely lips. She sighs to herself as Dean makes his way back to the living room.

“Let me know when you wanna hit the sack,” he says, propping his feet up on her coffee table and scrolling through her Pandora stations.

Without thinking, Donna replies. “Why, ya wanna join me?” She picks at her slice then takes another bite, keeping her eyes on her task.

_Hoo, boy. I said that._

Dean freezes mid-lift of the fresh beer to his mouth and slowly pans to his left to catch her eye. When she looks at him, trying to remain nonchalant, her breath leaves her and teeth slowly press a white seam into her full bottom lip.

Dean’s eyes drop to the action on her lower lip. His tongue darts across his own before he flicks his gaze to meet hers again, and she gasps. “That’n invitation?” he asks, his voice heavy and quiet.

Donna’s breath shakes as she recalibrates in her mind exactly how to respond based on his reaction – not that she had a plan to begin with; she’d really just blurted that out.

_Damn red beer…_

But his eyes are darker than usual, his voice deeper, his cheeks pinker. And Donna’s getting really warm.

“Is it-” Donna hops up from the couch and crosses the room to the thermostat. “Ya think it’s hot in here?” Her voice is breathier than she’s used to managing so she sounds a little strained.

Dean doesn’t answer, and she hopes for a moment that he’ll forget her blabbering. She doesn’t know how to do this anymore and she certainly doesn’t know how to do it with Dean. Yet, there they are.

“Maybe a little,” Dean finally answers with a soft chuckle.

Donna sighs some relief and fiddles with the thermostat. She wastes approximately four seconds that feel like 40-minutes before Dean clears his throat.

“D?” he says, amusement clear in his voice. “Ya didn’t answer my question.”

Donna pulls a deep breath before turning to face him. “I’m sorry,” she sing-songs. “I’ve had beers and the wedding was so emotional and I’m being… needy?” She rambles as she flits to the couch to take her seat next to Dean. “Just forget I said something so silly.”

Without missing a beat, Dean reaches for her hand. “Whaddaya need?” he asks, soft and suddenly serious.

She didn’t realize she’d sat so close to him this time, facing him, one leg tucked under her rear end, and her hands open in her lap. Dean’s fingers are gentle, warm, and probing as he entwines them with hers.

“What?” she asks, bewildered, letting him touch her, letting her body’s natural reactions get the best of her mind.

“Said you were needy,” he says, brushing his thumb across the back of her hand.

The way he’s looking at her – she tries to recall a time any man ever looked at her this way. It isn’t love in his eyes, but it isn’t far off, and she’s drawn to that look, bolstered by it.

She shakes her head, holds his gaze, honest and bare. “I just… _want_.”

“Okay,” he says, nodding. “Then tell me what ya _want_.”

Donna doesn’t answer with words. She steels herself, swallows thick then moves over him, slots her thighs on either side of his hips, cups his face in her hands and kisses him. Dean doesn’t even let her lips touch his before he’s got his hands up under her sweater, his fingers burning prints into her skin.

“Sure ‘bout this?” he asks, quiet but without letting up on her body and her lips. “You been drinkin’.”

“I’m good,” she answers, licking his lips, pulling them between her own. “This’s good.”

He nods and doubles down, turns with her wrapped around him, lays her back on the couch. He hovers over her, kissing her mouth, popping the button on her jeans, leaving them barely open before dragging that hand up to cup one of her breasts, brush a thumb over the thin fabric covering her puckered nipple.

It has been so long since she’s had sex. Every inch he touches and licks is off-the-charts hot and she’s already squirming under him, clothed and just 5-minutes in.

“Get this sweater off,” Dean says, shoving it upward and making Donna giggle. “It’s hot in here, right?” He grins again before kissing her skin as he exposes it.

She sits up halfway and pulls the garment the rest of the way over her head as he mirrors her actions with his t-shirt. They each toss their clothes anywhere but there and set back to kissing.

Dean braces himself over her with one hand on the arm of the couch above her head as his other hand works at the lace of her bra. First, he slides a finger back and forth, earning a gasp and a sigh from Donna, then he pinches and pulls the nipple between his thumb and middle finger. Before Donna can guess what he’ll do next, his hot mouth is over her other fabric-covered nipple, and she’s arching off the couch.

Her hands are everywhere, and his skin is just as hot and smooth as she’d expected. He’s so solid and meaty and strong. Donna slides her palms over his shoulders and down his chest and belly until her hands are hooked in his jeans. She pops _his_ button this time but doesn’t stop there.

“We really doin’ this?” Dean asks, nipping at her throat and sliding her bra strap over one shoulder. His lips are hot and damp and so good, and she shivers.

“Uh-huh,” she whispers back, sliding a small hand into the front of his jeans and gripping him through his boxers. He groans into her, scrapes his teeth along the column, then takes a mouthful of skin where her shoulder meets her neck.

Donna’s breath stutters again as his lips graze her collarbone and close over her now exposed nipple. “ _Oh, boy_ ,” she breathes.

She feels him smile against her breast, huff a quiet laugh, lick and swirl around her nipple and pull it between his lips.

“Donna,” his voice rolls over her skin and then he’s at her ear. “I’m gonna take your pants off now so I can get my mouth on ya.” He drops a kiss to her sternum and starts to move down. “Cool?”

“Yeah,” her voice is high and tight when she answers. “Real cool,” she gasps for air as he travels down and down, unsnapping the front of her bra to fully expose her, kissing across her belly, dragging a hand down her side, trailing kisses up along her ribs. “ _Hoo…_ ” she breathes heavy.

Dean chuckles again. “Been a while?” he asks, smiling up at her from where he’s working her pants open and over her hips.

She’s got her hands in her own hair and she’s staring at the ceiling, counting to ten, trying to steady her breathing. Donna nods and looks down at him. When their eyes meet, she relaxes into the cushions again. Dean looks at her with a kind of reverence she hasn’t seen in too long– and so much heat.

“Been a while,” she confirms with a wide grin, reaching down to run a single fingertip around the shell of his ear. She thinks she hears him purr, knows she sees him close his eyes and nuzzle into her touch.

“Same here,” he says with a satisfied sigh as he rises to kneel and toss her jeans over his shoulder.

He looks down at her, and her belly flips again. His hands skim her knees and her thighs, and he drops to settle between her legs, her knees askew, over his shoulders. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?” He asks, placing a gentle kiss to the satin covering her, holding her eyes with his, deepening the kiss until she starts to squirm again, and he can taste her wet. “Mmm,” he moans.

“Dean,” she gasps, she can’t do anything else. “ _Wow_.”

She so wound up, she thinks she might come from this. She is not one of those multi-orgasmic gals and wants the night to last, though, so she holds her breath and tries to clear her mind.

“Oh, honey,” Dean says, pushing one of her legs over the back of the couch to open her wider before using his teeth and making her make a sound like sobbing. “We just got started.”

“ _Holy…_ ” Donna sends up a prayer that she will, in fact, make it through the night because she’s pretty sure she’s going to want more of this tomorrow and the next day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, this thing has run away with my heart and soul, so bear with me while I meander and bask and write way more than two chapters.
> 
> Love you, Bri! xoxoxxx

“Relax, okay?” Dean says, letting up the pressure over the wet satin but maintaining their connection. He’s there with her – gentle, soft, warm; so warm. “Look at me.”

Donna realizes then that her eyes are shut tight, her fists clenched at her sides, teeth grinding. This isn’t how she wanted this to go. She needs to settle down.

She opens her eyes and exhales slow and long as she rests her gaze on Dean’s. She feels herself sink into the couch cushions when she sees his smile.

Dean nods up at her from where he’s sprawled between her open thighs. “That’s right,” he mutters. “Let’s take these off.” He slips a fingertip under the elastic of one leg of her panties and tugs playfully with a smirk.

Donna’s chuckles lightly. “’Spose that’s the next step, huh?” she says, lifting her hips, giving him access.

He hooks his fingers around the satin to peel it from her skin. “Next step’s whatever you want it to be,” he says, licking his lips as he exposes her completely. Once he’s got the shiny, pink fabric balled in his hand, he tosses it away then settles back into place, wraps his arms around her hips from underneath to cradle her.

“We didn’t wait this long to rush it now, right?” he says, resting one hand on her belly, letting the other smooth and caress the thigh draped over the back of the couch.

“I guess, yeah,” Donna replies with a grin, letting herself enjoy the feel of his rough but tender hands brushing her skin. “That feels good.” She sighs, becoming less and less opposed to the mere idea of being with Dean this way. It may have been awkward to think of it at first because so often she and Jody talk about the boys like they’re their annoying brothers.

But alas…

“Show me how to touch you,” he says, quiet and coy. “How ya touch yourself.” He blinks slow, holding her gaze as he dips his head to place a kiss to her wet slit, and she shivers.

Donna reaches down, runs her fingertips through his soft, spiky hair. “Okay,” she answers softly. “I’ll try.”

Dean rests his head against her thigh and watches her slip her fingers through her wet, around her clit, press and rub one side. She bites her lip and tries to concentrate. She wants this to be good for Dean as much as for herself.

_What if he doesn’t like the way she sounds and looks as she lets go?_

“So pretty,” he whispers, licking and biting his own bottom lip, his eyes riveted to where her fingers easily stroke through her slit. Then he drags his gaze up to meet hers. “Can I touch you while you do that? Fuck you with my fingers? God, I wanna watch you come – feel you.”

His eyes are pleading and hot and so dark, black pupils bleeding into the verdant irises.

Donna nods. “Yeah,” she breathes. “Yes, I want that.”

Dean grins and unwraps one arm from around her. “Keep your leg on my shoulder,” he says, and she obeys. Then he’s sliding his middle finger inside her like a hot knife through butter, twists and groans when the wet sound fills the space around them. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He flicks his eyes up to look at her again, his tongue dancing along the sharp edges of his teeth. “More?” he asks, curling his finger to rub against her g-spot then pushing a second finger inside before she even realizes that she’s answered.

“You look so good, D,” he says, kissing the curve of her inner thigh. “So hot and needy.” His lips brush her skin, and she shudders, rubbing faster, arching her back. Dean slides a third finger inside her and twists, and she’s so full.

She hisses. “Fffff…”

“Sheriff Hanscum, you dirty girl,” Dean teases with his voice and eyes. “Were you gonna say the mother of all curse words?” He clucks his tongue, nips at her skin, let’s that tongue slide along the side of her clit that she isn’t working into a frenzy then chuckles low and throaty

Donna’s had good sex, good orgasms, but she’s never felt so wanton and needy and brazen and hot with someone else in the room. She’s masturbated, watched porn clips, used toys alone. Never has she ever masturbated in front of another person – if that is in fact what she’s doing? – and it has her so worked up that she’s about to come in a way she never has before with another person.

“C’mon, baby,” Dean whispers, licking and kissing, fucking his thick fingers into her. “Say somethin’ dirty for me.”

Donna’s back arches high and she inhales sharp. Everything in her freezes hot, pleasure-pain sizzles between her thighs, where she’s rubbing circles, where Dean’s knuckles are fucking her bruised, where his tongue and lips are soothing it all – and then she ignites – flies apart, screaming silent.

The air and light around her vibrate as she drifts back into the moment, breathing deep and steady to calm her heart rate. Dean slides up over her. At some point he shoved his jeans off, so all she feels is his boxers and the fluffy fleece of her couch throw brush her sensitive skin.

“Hey,” he says, nuzzling into her neck and settling between her thighs. “Good?” He presses his lips to her skin, runs a big hand from her hip to her knee, pulls that leg up and secures it over his own hip.

“Oh, yeah,” Donna answers, letting her head roll to the side, giving him full access to her throat and collarbones. “I mean, no – I’m better than good.” She laughs. “That was pretty darn amazing, Dean.” She keeps her eyes glued to her TV, watching the song change on her Pandora as Dean’s lips wrap around one of her nipples. “ _Goll_ …”

“What do I gotta do to get you to talk dirty, D?” Dean jokes, licks around her nipple then gently closes his teeth over it and scrapes.

Donna really laughs then, deep and hearty from his teasing and the thrilling feel of his teeth. “I just don’t talk like that,” she says.

Dean pushes up to hover over her, drops a kiss to her lips. “Hmm,” he says, peering down at her, eyes narrowed. “If you say so.”

Donna shakes her head with a wide grin and a satisfied sigh. Then her hands start to roam, and it’s Dean’s turn to sigh. He gently bucks his hips, peppers kisses along her jaw.

“Should we take this upstairs, or…” Donna asks, not quite sure what to expect next. She wants to keep touching him, wants to kiss him some more. She wants to return the favor, too, but she’s starting to get a cramp in her back.

“Good idea,” Dean says, pecking her on the cheek before pushing up off of her and back onto his heels. “I’m too old for this makin’ out on the couch shit, I think I pulled somethin’.” He braces a hand at the small of his back and groans.

Donna laughs out loud again, snatching the throw from around Dean’s hips to wrap herself in it. He’s seen her naked, but she’s not exactly secure enough to get up and prance around naked in front of him. “Grab us a couple beers from the fridge and meet me upstairs?”

“Right on,” Dean answers before sliding from the couch and making his way to the kitchen, half-full pizza box in hand.

Donna scurries up to her room to straighten up, she lights a few candles and leaves the window sheers open enough to let the moonlight in. Before checking her makeup in the bathroom mirror, she pulls on her fluffy, white bathrobe. Just as she’s coming out of her bathroom, Dean’s coming into her room.

“Nice deck,” he says, handing her a beer on his way to the French doors leading to a large balcony. She sometimes has a beer out there on warm summer nights or coffee in the morning. “Not a bad view, either.”

Donna sips her beer and watches Dean take in the river view, the bike path lights reflecting off the surface of the water. She remembers Jody telling her that the only home the boys have really ever had was the bunker. Thinking about sharing such a simple pleasure as coffee on her balcony with Dean in the morning makes her heart skip a beat.

He turns to her with smiling eyes and sips his own beer. Then he’s looking her up and down, saunters closer, drops his free hand in the thick tie around her waist. “This thing’s sexy,” he mutters, pulling her close.

“It’s a bathrobe, Dean,” Donna replies quietly with a small smile as he dips his head, tucks into her neck and brushes his lips along her pulse, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind.

He shrugs. “Still sexy as fuck,” he says, bringing his lips around to hers. “You’re all wrapped up, nice and cozy.” He tugs at the tie until it’s loose and the front of the robe falls open. “Like a secret treat’s under here.” He slides one hand inside the heavy cotton, curls his fingers around the curve of her hip. “Like this.”

Dean sets his beer aside and slides his other hand in to mirror the first, and Donna gasps from the contrast in temperature of her heated skin and his beer-cooled hand. He pulls her tight against him and kisses her deep and long, swaying to a silent melody. She feels him hard against the soft curve of her belly, and the goosebumps spread further.

Donna pulls back enough to speak, stressing the importance of being on the bed ASAP. Dean chuckles and walks backward, dragging her with him, grinning ear-to-ear. When the backs of his knees hit the bed, he sits, slides his hands over her hips, down her thighs to the backs of her knees and nudges her toward him.

“Come on, D,” Dean flirts, tilts his head and purses his lip, tickles the backs of her legs. “Be a good girl and get on top.”

Donna giggles and blushes before gingerly climbing astride Dean’s lap. “I’m not really a lap-sittin’ kinda gal.” The thought of it makes her uncomfortable. She tries not to put all her weight on him.

Before she can think too much, Dean pushes her robe from her shoulders. A deep sound rumbles in his chest when her full, heavy breasts are exposed. There’s a slight chill in the air and she shivers. Then one of Dean’s palms is at the small of her back and the fingertips of his other hand are gliding outward over her collarbone.

“You are so beautiful, you now that?” he says, slowly bringing his gaze from the path of his fingers to meet her eyes. He cups one breast in his hand, hefts its weight, brushes his thumb over her nipple.

Donna’s breath shakes and she instinctually pushes into his hand. “Why doncha lie back?” She smiles, pressing her palms against his shoulders. “So I can get _my_ mouth on _you_.” She winks.

Before she knows what’s happening, Dean’s hoisting her back with him, burrowing into the plush pillows at the head of her bed. He’s got both arms around her and they’re on their sides, facing each other. “That what you really want?” he asks, dragging one hand from around her waist to the space between them then pushing it between her legs. “You’re so wet, should take advantage of it.”

Dean slips his fingers through her slick and takes her lips with his. “Get this wet, pretty pussy on my dick,” he whispers against her mouth, sucking her full bottom lip between his own.

“Dean,” Donna whines helplessly. She buries her head in his neck to hide her face. No one’s ever talked like that to her before. It makes her entire body blush red and hot.

“What is it, baby?” he says, a teasing smile in is quiet tone as he scrapes blunt teeth over the shell of her ear. His hot breath makes her skin prickle painfully. “Does it make you hot when I talk about your pussy?” Dean slowly, easily pushes two fingers inside her. “How wet you are?” He licks into her mouth on his way to her other ear. “How hard I am?”

Dean slowly pulls her earlobe between his teeth then whispers, hot and dirty, “I’m gonna stretch that tight, little hole so good.”

“Dean,” Donna sobs quietly, desperately. The thought of answering him with words - filthy words - as well as her actions, feeling that free and confident, that safe, emboldens her in the moment and she draws a deep breath before pulling back to look him in the eye.

“ _Fuck_ me,” she says, and Dean’s slow, broad grin is blinding.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's s bit of schmoop in this chapter and I'm not even a tiny bit sorry.  
> ILY, Bri!

“That’s my girl,” Dean says with a quiet chuckle, sucking her lips between his own. “Knew ya had it in you.”

Donna trails a hand down over his chest and belly before twisting her wrist and sliding that hand between his legs with a coy smile, cupping his full erection and squeezing lightly. “I have condoms.”

Dean nods and looks her in the eye. He smiles soft and warm, and Donna’s reminded why she’s here – with him.

He kisses her and lets his hands explore her body again. “Where at?” he asks, one hand in her hair and the other tracing the crease where her ass meets the top of her thigh.

“Nightstand drawer,” Donna answers, nodding her head backward.

Dean’s eyes flare with mischief. He rolls away from her long enough to get rid of his boxers then rolls back toward her and pushes her to her back. “Can’t wait to feel you.” He knees her thighs open and rises to kneeling, reaching for the nightstand and easily finding a condom in the well-organized drawer.

“Any requests, Sheriff?” Dean asks, popping a literal tongue into his literal cheek as he sits back on his feet as he opens the foil packet.

Donna grins, pushes her fingers up into her hair and watches Dean’s eyes light with the movement of her breasts. “Other than wanting you to fuck me?” she asks, and Dean groans again, letting out a low chuckle as he rolls the condom over his hard length. “Or d’you want me to be more specific?” Donna teases, one hand dancing from her hair to a breast. She hisses as she pulls the nipple tight.

“Sweetheart.” Dean bites his lip then lets it drag slowly through his teeth as he drops onto one hand, hovers over her, grabs himself at the base of his cock to guide the tip through her slit. “I’m gonna need you to be as _specific_ as possible.”

Donna huffs a quiet laugh. “I like this,” she says, letting her hands rest against his chest, raises her open thighs around his hips. “I like you over me.” Then her smile turns to a smirk. “Now I want you _inside me_.”

Dean nods, guides himself more pointedly, rubs circles around her opening with the tip. “Here?” he asks, spreading her wetness.

Donna breathes heavy and tilts her hips. “Yeah, right there,” she answers with a nod. “Right now.” She drops one hand to one of his hips and pulls.

Dean chuckles again before letting himself push inside her – ever so slowly. “Like this?” he asks, quiet and kissing her lips.

“More,” Donna whispers, urging his hips with both hands now. “ _More_.”

He keeps moving slow, and she feels the hot stretch, how hard he is, the curve of his cock helping the fat head to rub the most sensitive spot inside her. “So good,” he says, nuzzling into her neck once he’s all the way inside.

He rests his weight on his forearms and starts to grind against her. Donna keeps her hands on the luscious curve of his back and tilts her pelvis to feel that deep rub. “Dean, that’s... _hooo_ .”

“Yeah,” he says, kissing her neck and jaw, rocking against her. “I want you to come again before I do, so you gotta tell me how it feels – tell me what’s good.”

Donna smiles. “I’m not gonna come again, Dean, so just...” She kisses him through her smile. “This feels good, just do what you need.”

Dean’s brow furrows. “You serious right now?” he swivels his hips a little more intently, and Donna moans in surprise. “You’re _right there_ , D.” He grinds down on her hard before pulling out to lightly pump against that spot. Donna whines, and he continues with those shallow, teasing thrusts.

Donna’s high-pitched breath shakes. “Dean, my...” She gasps when he hits it harder.

“Right here, right?” he asks, nipping at her jaw. “This spot?” He takes a mouth full of the meat of her shoulder, uses his teeth. “Shit,” he whispers against her skin. “You’re squeezin’ my cock.” Then his breath is hot in her ear again. “You’re gonna come so hard.” He pulls at the shell of her ear with his teeth with a hiss. “Do it,” he whispers.

Donna’s back arches and she shouts out loud as she comes again. It’s the kind of orgasm that happens when she’s alone with her romance novels and that one really big, curved dildo. She isn’t even sure the sounds coming out of her mouth at full volume are English.

Not that it matters because Dean’s back on his knees with her legs over his shoulders and he’s hammering into her, hammering her through her climax and drawing it out to spike and flutter.

She’s not going to be able to walk tomorrow without some pretty deep reminders of tonight.

Dean collapses to brace over her, panting, drained and smiling. They’re both sweat-slick and high, and Donna hooks her arms around his neck. “Well,” she sighs. “That was somethin’ else.” Dean grins wide, kisses her lips and her chin, trails kisses over her jaw and throat.

“That was a _good_ somethin’ else,” Dean says.

When he rolls away and discards of the condom, they both groan. Donna smoothes a hand over his damp skin, admiring the dips and planes as his muscles twist under the flesh. When he shifts to face her again, they fall into place naturally as if they’ve cuddled post-coital a million times before.

“Tired?” he asks, arms holding her close and hands in her hair, lips brushing her forehead.

Donna sighs in satisfaction and nods. “Happily,” she answers, burrowing her head against his chest and closing her eyes.

Tonight was the thing of hopes and dreams. She can handle whatever happens tomorrow, so she decides to sleep blissfully in Dean’s arms.

* * *

Donna wakes to early sunlight and the smell of coffee – and Dean shuffling quietly into her room with two steaming mugs. He’s in his boxers and t-shirt and his hair is more of a mess than usual, but the smile on his face has her smiling right back.

“Found the Cuisinart, huh?” Donna says, sleepy and raspy, accepting the mug Dean’s extended to her and holding the sheet to her breast. She hasn’t even had time to think about the night before, about whether she feels awkward or whether he’s regretting it.

“Gotta have my coffee,” he says, letting his eyes slowly glide over her bare skin. When he meets her gaze again, he winks before turning to the French doors overlooking the river path. “Even better view in the mornin’.”

The double-entendre, as Dean is wont to use, is not lost on her, and her body further wakes to a rush of blood and heat to the surface of her skin. She sits upright and wraps herself as best she can in the rumpled covers. She’s as sore as she knew she would be, and she likes it – a lot.

Donna quietly sips the hot brew and watches Dean in profile. The morning light twinkling through his jade eyes makes her heart race and skip. “Can sit outside if ya want,” she offers.

Dean purses his lips and nods his head then looks over his shoulder at her, dropping and dragging his gaze to places he’d touched and licked the night before. “Might wanna put somethin’ on first,” he says, a sleepy but playful grin in full effect. “Maybe that robe.”

“Yeah,” Donna replies with a wry smile as she sets her coffee aside. “Don’t wanna scare the poop outta my neighbors.” She reaches for the robe she’d discarded the night before and which Dean seems to have replaced at the foot of her bed.

Dean scoffs as he twists the knob on one of the doors to walk out onto the balcony. “’Scared’ isn’t the emotion I’d say is what that rack of yours inspires.”

Donna blushes full, head to toe at his words. She realizes that she probably needs to get used to that if this is going to be anything more than a one-night thing.

Once she’s adequately covered with coffee in hand, she joins Dean on the balcony, settling next to him on the love seat. He’s propped his bare feet up on the small wrought iron table that serves as a coffee table and he seems as comfortable as anyone could ever be there, including herself.

Donna doesn’t want to ruin the moment, and what she’s about to do most definitely would have with anyone else in her past, but not with Dean. She takes a deep breath and turns to look at him, twists in her spot into an upright pigeon pose to get a good look at him. She hasn’t said a word before he mirrors her actions with a small smile.

“Is it time for _the talk_?” he asks, taking a long sip of his cooling coffee.

“Prob’ly should, doncha think?” Donna says, her fingers wrapped comfortingly around her mug. The warmth and solidity give her strength.

Dean nods thoughtfully. “You wanna go first?” he asks, and Donna shrugs. Dean seems surprised by her reluctance, but he doesn’t push. “Okay, I’ll go.”

He sets his coffee on the table then pitches forward, draping one arm across the back of the wide seat and resting his other fingertips on Donna’s ankle, where her foot’s tucked into her extended thigh.

“I don’t need to tell you how great last night was – we were both there,” he starts and Donna blushes again, looking down into the dark pool of her mostly untouched coffee. “And I don’t need to say that we live more than eight hours’ drive from each other.” He pauses and waits for her guarded eyes to meet his.

Donna watches as Dean’s expression softens from playful and flirty to something more serious. Her stomach flips, and she swallows thick.

_Here it comes…_

“What I do need to say is that I don’t want that to be it for you and me.” Donna blinks and exhales long and quiet. Dean ducks his head to catch her wandering gaze. “We’re both hunters, and our shit is so fucked up with or without each other, D.”

She nods, her mind beginning to spiral. “I know it,” she answers. “Doug- I mean the good Doug-”

“Exactly,” Dean says, dropping his hand from the back of the couch to her thigh. “He was a good guy, but this shit is too much.” His palm is warm and calming. “I’ve had similar experiences – it sucks.”

Donna’s still nodding when she realizes that Dean’s taking the mug out of her hands and setting it beside his own. Then he’s tilting her chin up with the curve of his index finger. “So?” he asks, eyebrows raised. “Whaddaya say?”

She grins broad and bright before leaning into him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and kissing him deep and long. When she breaks the kiss, she rests her forehead against his. “We make a good team,” she says. “I say we give it a shot.”

When Dean pulls her into his lap, pushes his hands inside her robe, and kisses her wet and lush, she realizes that her neighbors will just have to get used to blushing as well.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More for Bri. xox - MJ
> 
> There's period sex in here, so be warned. And fisting. Sorry to spoil, but I don't want to traumatize anyone. lol

Donna’s had a long day. She went to work even though she’s in the midst of one of the heaviest periods she’s ever had. She has a migraine and cramps, and she wants to eat everything in sight. And she’s horny.

She hates that part of her periods – the part where all she wants to do is eat and have sex until she passes out. Partly because emotional eating is a weakness she’s worked hard to overcome in recent years; mostly because she’s never felt comfortable indulging in sex when she’s so… messy.

So, she waits it out, wants things she can’t or shouldn’t have, tries to distract herself with work and cleaning house. She even tried going for a run, which ended in blood-soaked tights two miles in.

“Oof,” she groans to herself as she peels the soiled garment from her legs while the steam from her shower fills the bathroom. She steps on the foot lever of her trash can and drops the tights into the bin. No amount of washing will make her stop resenting her own body’s monthly betrayal every time she looks at those things.

Donna lights a candle and switches on some music before pushing the curtain aside to climb under the hot spray of water. She groans once again, this time with the satisfaction of the water sluicing over her sensitive, sticky skin. She lets the water rinse most of the visible evidence from her body then soaks and lathers her hair with coconut shampoo. After she’s rinsed and combed conditioner through her strands, she reaches for the purple shower puff where is hangs delicately next to the larger blue one.

Donna sighs, thinking of Dean – his hands and his voice, his warm, solid body holding her against him, wrapping her in comfort. It’s been two weeks since she’s seen him – since they decided to try this relationship thing. They’ve talked and texted, but they’ve both been too busy to leave their work.

She closes her eyes and hums quietly with the music, pretending her hands are his as she slowly massages sweet-smelling suds over her skin. As she’s rinsing the bubbles away, considering getting out of the shower, she feels a slight draft.

“Hey,” Dean’s soft, deep voice greets her, and his big hands slide around her waist from behind, gently palming her belly. He noses into the crook of her neck and sways with her wrapped in his arms.

She lets out a heavy sigh of relief, collapsing back into him, resting her arms over his, letting her fingers touch him wherever she can. “When’d you get here?” she asks, letting her eyes fall closed, letting him gently move her to the melody.

“’Bout five minutes ago,” he answers quietly, pressing kisses to her wet neck and shoulder. “Heard the shower runnin’ and couldn’t pass up the opportunity of havin' you all wet and naked.” 

His hands begin to wander, one down and between her legs, cupping her gently; the other upward to squeeze and caress one of her breasts. His hand between her legs feels so good, but it makes her nervous as well. She feels him smile against her skin and she tilts her head to give him better access to her neck.

She wants him so much right now. She wants him to rub her where he’s just holding her, make her come. Wants him to bend her over and-

“I missed you,” Dean says, working his middle finger between her folds and inside.

Donna tenses slightly and holds her breath before reaching for his wrist to stop him. She wants it so badly, but she can’t just let him finger her without knowing she’s bleeding.

“What is it?” Dean asks, pulling his hand from between her legs and craning his neck to look into her eyes. “Y’okay?” His look of concern warms her heart and calms her.

She’s stilling tucked into him, feeling embarrassed and a little bit childish. She nods. “I’m fine, it’s just…” She sighs and starts to pull out of his embrace. “It’s _thattimeofthemonth_.” She lets the words rush from her lips and makes to leave the shower. 

She’ll just grab a tampon and underwear and clothes and go downstairs to the powder room to dress in private. She doesn’t want to bother Dean with this.

Then he pulls her back against his chest and tightens his arms around her. “Relax, D,” he says, holding her and moving to the music once more. “I mean, if you don’t want me to touch you, I won’t, but…” Dean pulls her earlobe between his wet lips. “Aren’t orgasms good for cramps?” he asks, a smile lighting his tone.

Donna shivers and closes her eyes, relaxing into him again.

She should’ve known if any man’s not going to be scared off by period blood, it’s going to be Dean.

“Yeah, I guess,” she answers, arching her back, her ass rubbing against his groin.

“Fuck,” Dean groans and lets his hands wander again. “Anything you want, D. Just tell me. Want my fingers?” He slides two fingers along her slick slit, circles her clit, pushes the tips inside and curls them. “You want this?” He slips his cock between the soft tops of her thighs. “Tell me.”

Donna doesn’t use words; she uses her hands. She grips his wrist again, this time to hold it in place so she can ride his fingers just so then braces her other hand on the tiled wall in front of them.

Dean pushes her wet hair out of his way, takes mouths full of her skin, leaving pink marks and bruises in his wake. He leans forward and plants his hand over her much smaller one against the tile. “Good?” he rumbles in her ear, gritting his teeth with every grind of her hips over his hand. “Fuck my hand, D. Like a good girl.” Then he pushes another finger inside her and she groans, widens her stance, bends at the waist.

“Dean,” she whines. “More?”

She swears that she hears him growl. “Here,” he says, keeping his hand between her legs, pulling away from her, spinning her until she's backed against the cool tile of the side wall. “You want more?" His eyes are lit in a way that enflames her further. He looks hungry and intense, kind of like he does in the middle of a hard fight.

Dean isn't usually rough with sex, but she isn't complaining. "I got more,” he says, lifting her leg and bracing her knee against the wall beside her hip.

Dona lets her head fall back, her eyes fall shut, as he twists his hand, slipping all four fingers inside her and his thumb over her clit.

“Oh, fuck,” she whispers. “Dean, that’s… oh, fuck.” His knuckles grind her opening wider with each twist, and she can’t breathe right. He's got her pushed and pulled so far open. She’s exposed and hot and ready to pop, and he’s making her say things she just doesn’t ever say – unless she’s coming hotter and harder than ever before. 

Then he tucks his thumb into his palm, drops to his knees and seals his lips over her clit. He’s still got her knee pinned to the wall with his hand, fingers digging into her soft skin as his fist twists and pushes all the way inside.

The sounds coming out of Donna’s mouth, from deep in her gut, are so foreign to her. The way he’s made her feel, the way he’s fucking into her – is spiritual in its essence. This is next-level sex, and she's going to come next-level, too.

His knuckles smooth over her insides, curl against her g-spot; his mouth - his lips and tongue and teeth love her clit. Then she’s coming – violently, loud, wet – so gratifyingly _messy_.

Her sobs fill the air, her gut trembles, her legs give out. Dean stands in time to catch her. He slowly removes his fist from her body. It’s a process almost as sensual as the actual sex act. Donna’s breathy moan at the final absence of his hand makes him have to kiss her lips.

Dean turns her in his arms with her back to his chest again so he can wash his hands and rinse her clean. He’s so careful with her. She feels so lucky to have him.

“Well,” he says with mirth. “That was some show.” He smiles down at her. “You looked so good taking my fist like that. So…” His eyes darken again and he bites his bottom lip. “Needy and open for me.”

Donna shivers and chuckles lightly as she turns to face him. She licks her lips and rests a hand on his chest. “It was definitely an experience.” She grins. “I wonder if I’ll be able to walk tomorrow.” 

Dean laughs. “C’mon, the water’s gettin' cold.” He twists the knobs off, helping her stay steady as she pulls the curtain back and grabs a towel. Dean takes the towel from her and wraps it around her shoulders. “Feel better, though?” he asks, kissing her again. 

Donna sighs and nods. “Much,” she answers. “Now I’m starving.”

Dean grins down at her and reaches for a towel for himself. “Okay,” he says, tying it around his waist then mussing his damp hair. “You get cozy, and I’ll go make comfort food.”

Donna winces. “Nothing too much, okay?” she says, slightly bashful. “I’m still dieting, ya know.”

Dean shakes his head. “Nah, you’re gettin’ my famous mac and cheese. I’ll work it off ya later.” He says with a wink before scooping up his clothes from the floor and disappearing from the bathroom.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The italicized lyrics are from the song "Always Remember Us This Way" by Lady Gaga from the soundtrack for A Star Is Born.

“What’s up, pussycat?” Dean asks as Donna sidles up behind him and slides a knee between his legs.

They’ve been drinking since 3pm kick-off when they started at Shorty’s on Main Street. Pitchers were five bucks and wings were twenty-five cents apiece.

After Donna’s team won, they decided to get a bottle of wine and head back to her place for some real food. She changed into loose joggers and a tank top, and Dean tried not to ogle her tits so he agreed to cook.

He’s stirring his chili as Donna pushes one hand up under his t-shirt and drags the other down over the front of his jeans. “Well, you, for one,” she answers.

Dean chuckles. “You may not know this about yourself…” He twists his neck to dip down and kiss her over his shoulder. “But when you drink like this you get a little _amorous_.”

He smirks and her cheeks flush. She starts to pull away, thinking maybe she’s being too much; but then he catches her hand.

“I mean I can actually smell you.” His voice has dropped an octave and it’s quiet in her warm, fragrant kitchen. “So, yeah, I’m up, kitten.”

Donna swallows thick, licks her bottom lip and bites. “I’ll open the wine,” she says, backing away slowly.

They decide to sit on the couch and watch a movie while they eat. There’s another game on – neither of them much care about, but it’s something to distract them from each other while they gain essential nutrients after day drinking.

“Want more?” Dean asks as he stands with his empty bowl.

Donna flicks her glassy eyes up to meet his and tosses him a lopsided smile. “Not chili, no,” she says, handing him her empty bowl, letting her fingers drag over his as he takes the bowl from her.

“You’re feisty tonight,” Dean mutters, salacious yet scolding. “You just might get yourself into trouble, girl.”

He turns to make his way to the kitchen. Then he hears it.

“Promise?” she says. It’s almost a whisper, and when he turns to sneak a peek at her, she’s tucked deep into the corner of the couch and her cheeks are burning pink.

“Don’t move from that spot,” he mutters with an arched brow. “I’ll be right back.”

Dean dumps their dishes in the sink and darts back to the living room. Donna’s filling their glasses with the rest of the wine, and the second she sets the bottle down he’s pulling her to her feet.

“Feelin’ frisky, kitten?” he murmurs into her mouth as he kisses her slow and deep. “’Coz I’ll play.”

Donna sighs and emits something between a whine and a whimper. “Dean, you…” She’s breathless and wordless, and definitely tipsy. She wants to tell him everything she’s feeling, but her brain is pleasantly fuzzy from the steady flow of beer and wine and good food. “You’re so good to me.”

Dean pulls back slightly to look her in the eyes. He shakes his head. “I’m good to you because you deserve it,” he says, cupping her face in his hands. “I can never be _good enough_ to you, D.” Then he’s kissing her again and he starts to sway with the music coming from the television.

_You look at me and, babe, I wanna catch on fire…_

Donna feels herself start to tear up as Dean’s hands tangle in her long waves and his tongue twists with hers. They move like that for moments on end, her slowing her heart rate, willing herself not to cry from too much wine. She feels warm and safe.

Then Dean’s eyes take on that signature hue of mischief and he suddenly loses his footing. He tumbles to the floor, dragging her down with him. She sprawls gracelessly over him and they both burst into laughter.

Before Donna’s sober brain can catch up and have a moment of panic that she’s full-weight pressing him into the ground, he’s pushing and pulling her into place, grinding up into her. He lifts his head and takes her mouth with his as his fingers dig into the undercurve of her ass.

He gently pulls her bottom lip between his teeth then drags his lips over her jaw and down her throat, pushes the strap of her tank top from her shoulder until he’s able to get to her bare breasts.

“Fuck, you taste good.”

“I’m sweaty,” she breathes, gripping his hair to encourage his mouth on her. “You’re a salt freak.”

“Whatever,” he says, going the other way to pull her tank up over her head and toss it aside.

“Tit for tat, mister,” Donna says, grabbing at the hem of his t-shirt.

“Your gorgeous tits for my tat, cool,” Dean says, snickering at his own joke.

Donna rolls her eyes but can’t help but laugh. For a minute after she gets his shirt off, she traces his tattoo and slides her hands over the planes of his torso, smooths her palms over his shoulders. He’s paying equal attention to her body and when he rolls her nipples between his thumb and callused trigger finger, she shivers.

“You’re makin’ me so wet.” She squirms over him.

She’s come a long way with talking during sex. She still isn’t quite the master Dean is, but she has no problem saying what she feels and what she wants.

He nods below her, his eyes hooded. “I can smell you and feel your damp heat through these totally unnecessary pants.”

Donna starts laughing again. Then she feels him hoisting her up his body. She’s so light-headed and so relaxed, she doesn’t even realize what’s happening until Dean is neck-deep between her thighs.

She tries to catch her breath, to strategize, but then he’s wrapping his mouth around her hot, covered cunt and his pupils blow wide into the green. “Hooo,” she breathes, giving in, falling forward onto all fours.

For long moments, Dean mouths at the wet fabric and gropes her thighs, until he starts to drag the pants over her hips, snagging her underwear as he goes. “Get rid of those and get back up here,” he says.

And the tone in his voice – Donna’s heard that tone and it takes her breath away. It’s the tone he uses when he isn’t taking no for an answer. She’s only ever heard it in the field, on a case. He’s never used it on her.

She doesn’t argue. Instead, she quickly straddles his face and lets him dig his fingers into her hips and ass as he yanks her into his mouth. He licks her long and slow, eyes closed and groaning.

“Use your fingers while I lick you, kitten,” he says.

Donna grips one breast and squeezes as she slides her other hand between her legs. She slips her delicate fingers along her slit and barely pushes one inside, swirls it around her clit.

“Hold that pretty cunt open for me,” he says, diving back in, and she obeys.

“Fuck,” she whispers into the air, head back, leisurely riding Dean’s face.

His fingers tease her from behind, where he’s gripping her ass, but she wants something inside – something thick.

She drops her other hand and automatically pushes two fingers inside herself and presses over her clit.

“Baby,” Dean moans. “Let me fuck you with my tongue. I promise it’ll feel good.”

Donna nods and repurposes her hands to hover over him again, bracing them on the floor. He does what he says he was going to do, pushes his thick tongue inside her and two fingers from behind. And he was right – it’s amazing.

“Dean,” she whines, grinding over his mouth to use is beautiful lips for friction against her clit. The wet heat of his curling tongue inside her and the stretch of his thick fingers has her barreling toward her climax. “I’m gonna come.”

Dean nods. “Uh-huh,” he breathes into her, keeps fucking her with fingers and tongue.

Hot liquid swirls between her hips. The whirlpool grows and expands, and she can’t hold it anymore. She clenches every muscle in her body and arches her back like an angry cat before she lets go, wet and hot and so satisfying.

Dean releases her from his mouth. “Fuck, yes, kitten,” he says, rolling her to her back on the floor.

He works to unfasten his jeans just enough to free his cock as he quickly slots himself between her legs. “Knew I could make you squirt.” His grin is all pride and gratification as he pushes inside her. “Fuck.” He drops his forehead to hers and sets a quick, hard pace.

Donna is breathless as she takes his rough thrusts. She’s so wet and the floor’s a mess and Dean is grunting like a fucking animal, but she couldn’t care less. She tents her knees and spreads open wide for him, holding onto his shoulders.

“Want you to come again,” he says, lifting one knee and draping it over his shoulder. Now he’s pounding into her g-spot and she’s crying out loud. “Wanna feel you come on my dick.” He drops a hand to her clit and rubs.

Donna meets his thrusts and feels another wave of an orgasm rolling toward her. “Coming,” she says. “Come with me,” she gasps.

“Fuck yes!” he shouts, hips stuttering and bruising her tender inner thighs.

Donna sprawls open wide, letting Dean collapse over her. They’re both sweating and panting and covered in cum.

“Well,” Donna says. “That was something new.”

Dean starts to chuckle as he kisses her. “Never a dull moment, right?” He smiles down at her, his hair a mess and his lips wet.

Donna reaches up to cup his cheek. There’s a thought, a phrase, something hovering at the edge of her consciousness. She sighs and sets it free. “Darn tootin’, studly.”

Then Dean really laughs.


	6. Flashfic for MJ's Flashfic Follower Celebration

“I just want a taste,” Dean speaks low and quiet as his hand travels up under Donna’s skirt.

They’re at dinner. The bar is mostly empty. They had burgers and are sipping their beers, but now Dean wants ‘dessert.’

“Not here,” she whispers, pushing his hand away.

“Why not?” he whines, obeying, pulling his hand away, but still indignant.

“We’re bellied up to the bar, Dean,” she replies, scandalized, scanning the room. “ _In my town_.”

Dean smirks. “But that’s part of the fun, D,” he replies, licking his lips.

She shakes her head, focusing back on her beer, draining it. “Alright,” she says, setting the empty glass to the bar top and sitting up straight as she swivels her barstool to face him. “Well, go on, then, finish your beer and let’s go.”

Dean gasps like a giddy little boy, eyes jumping and lighting as he slams the rest of his beer. “Let’s hit it, Wonder Woman,” he says, grinning wide as he stands up out of his stool and offering her an arm as she hops down out of hers.

They bid goodnight to the other bar patrons as they walk out the door.

~~~~~~~

“On your knees, Dean,” Donna says as they cross the threshold to her home. She drops her handbag on the sideboard and shrugs out of her denim jacket. By the time she turns to face him, he’s removed his exactly where she wants him.

She heard him groan, heard his clothing rustle as he dropped to his knees as instructed, but seeing it is something else entirely.

Donna sighs, unbuttoning the cuffs of her blouse then starting on the placards as she meanders toward him. She circles him, tosses the gauzy garments to the arm of her couch then runs her fingers through his hair. When she comes to a stop in front of him, facing him, his pretty green eyes are almost black with hunger.

“You are so beautiful,” he mutters, his face soft and endearing, looking up at her with such reverence.

Yeah, he wants to fuck her. She can see that he’s hard. He’s the embodiment of lust, but that’s just Dean. He’s primal, animalistic, needy. But he also cherishes her. He loves her. He doesn’t even have to say it; it’s etched in his features, it’s embedded in his touch, it’s laced through his words. 

“You look so good,” Donna says, cupping his jaws, holding him to her body. He nuzzles into her belly, inhales and sighs. His hands gently wrap her hips.

“What do you want, D?” he asks, looking up at her again. “I’ll give you anything.”

He means it, too.

“Make love to me right here,” she says, reaching behind her back to unzip her skirt and let it fall to the floor, pooling around her heeled feet. “Right in the foyer.” She smiles, bites her lip.

He takes her by the hand to pull her down. She kneels, mirroring him. He holds her face in his hands and kisses her, kisses her, kisses her.

She pushes at his jacket, his overshirt, pulls his t-shirt until he stops kissing her long enough for her to get it over his head and tossed aside.

“Right here, huh?” he asks, grinning again, leaning in again. He reaches for her thighs, pulls and twists until she’s on her back.

She giggles. “Yes,” she answers. “That’s what I said, Superman. Right here.”

They’re like a couple of teenagers, grinning and googly-eyed. He cracks a couple of stupid jokes, and she laughs belly-deep, as he gets his pants undone and down to his knees.

“Like this,” he whispers, settling over her, pushing inside her.

They both sigh and Donna brings her knees up around his hips. “Just like this,” she answers and her breath shakes.

Dean sets a rhythm. She’s soft and wet and writhing under his hard, hot, thrusts. He’s slow as he goes, though, steady. Deep then shallow. He hits all her buttons, and she revels in it.

“I love you,” she whispers, running her hands over his bare shoulders as he pumps into her, straining muscles and starting to sweat.

His answer is to drag back, thrusting shallow, right over her g-spot, taking her mouth with his, groaning into her. “D, come,” he whispers. “Please, baby.”

Donna groans in tandem, arches her back and gives him what he wants. She comes gripping and undulating.

Dean buries his face in her neck and she can feel the sheen of sweat, the wet of a single tear, as his thrusting slows and he finds his own release. His lips graze her throat and then she hears it.

“Me too, D,” he whispers. “Me too.”

And then he’s kissing her again, inside her and all around. Donna has never been happier in her life.


End file.
